A Countryside Murder Tale
by Wayfarer Fox
Summary: A new murder case has fallen into the ZPD's hands, and it will take its officers a bit more than luck to crack it open. Conspiracies, violence, mystery and a lot of new faces.
1. The first interview

After a long day of fishing, he began the walk back to his house, the familiar trees shadowing the moonlight on his path home. On his right shoulder, six sardines were tied together; his family would have a good dinner tonight.

Along the path stood a row of shack houses, his being the last. There should be music, moonshining, laughing and lights by this time of autumn; the town's harvest festival had always been his favorite time of the year.

But there was none of that now, he and his family were the last otters there. The others had fled to the big city, and lived in squalor with no job and no proper way to support their families. "That ain't no way for an otter to live. We fish, our fathers fished, and our sons will fish. What sort of life is worth living without a good and honest job?" he used to say, but there was no one around now to listen, was there? At least there were more fish.

As he was getting to his house, he saw a large shadow standing by his small fence. It was fiddling with the small gate, much to John's surprise.

"SILVIA! LOCK THE DOOR! THERE'S A STRANGE FELLA' GETTIN' IN!" John screamed to his house.

Silvia needed only to take a glance from the window to know that it was trouble. She ran to the door to bar it, and shushed their son.

"Now listen here mister," John said while putting the fish down the ground, "I don't want any trouble with you. We are poor and simple folk, but I ain't letting you get inside my house." John grinned, exposing his sharp and strong teeth. "Now, you get the hell away from here or I'll bite your ass outta town."

The shadow turned, its steel blade shining blue under the low light that was able to make it through the tree leaves. John backed away.

"We ain't got nothing to steal mister, just leave us alone or you will…!" He felt a heavy impact on his back and was thrown to the ground. He spun his body to face the assailer; a smaller shadow, its face concealed under a hood.

John felt a sting on his back and screamed. A punch to the gut soon came, making him lose his breath. He tried to bite the mammal at his front, but the knife now found its way to his neck. Once. Twice. Trice. The moon was no more, only darkness. _I have to lay a bit_ , he thought as he crumbled to the ground, his red blood pulsing as his body convulsed.

* * *

The camera light blinked. Silvia took a pause, she needed a moment to catch her breath before she could continue.

"Mrs. Bevyton, I think that's enough." Nick got up from his chair and extended her a glass of water.

"That ain't all, Officer," said Silvia with a hoarse voice. She took a sip, her first glass of clean water in 3 days. "They didn't stop there, no, they cut John… they cut off his tongue and threw at the window." She heaved, "So much blood… my dear John..." Silvia sobbed quietly, with no more strength to bear the pain.

"Mrs. Bevyton, thank you very much, this information will help us a lot." Wilde guided her to a waiting room, where her son waited, his blank stare aimed at an unpowered TV set. Silvia sat beside her son and hugged him. The boy had no reaction.

Wilde moved silently down the corridors and pushed open the observation door to the interrogation room, where Bogo was waiting.

"Chief, I…" Bogo held a hoof up, asking for a moment. Nick closed the door behind him and waited.

"I want a report on my desk in thirty minutes, Detective." Bogo sighed and went to the door, Wilde shuffling aside to give him room to pass.

"Chief!" Wilde grabbed his shirt, the buffalo towering at his side, "What about Mrs. Bevyton?"

"Call OVS, they are priority number one." Bogo began heading to his office. He stopped and turned around. "Wilde!."

"Yes sir?"

"She was from Beavertown, right?"

"That's correct sir, yes."

Bogo walked to his office and slammed the door. He grabbed his graduation photo and looked at his old class.

"What the hell happened, Kane?"


	2. A funny little town

EQUALITY PACT INCITES UNREST

Today, on the fifth anniversary of the Night Howler Scandal, the House of Representatives approved the Equality Pact; an act which has sparked protests all around state. The controversial set of laws aims to criminalize any sort of discrimination in Zootopia's territory. Hefty charges may be applied to those that deny service based on speciesism, for instance; and a maximum of 5 years jail time may apply to malicious public shaming.

According to ZU's Chief of Theriology Studies, Dr. Piggart, "By uniting forces, thousands of years ago, our ancestors denied their biological behavior. Together, we achieved civilization. All that we have today is thanks to both the prey and predator classes of mammals. There's no sense in keeping with segregationists ideals and it has been this way for a very long time. Bellwether's wave of violence wasn't the first of it's kind and, until we put this primitive behavior behind us, as our ancestors did, it may not be the last."

His opinion, however, doesn't reflect the views of some of the more conservative members of society. Paul Lemming II, chairman of the Lemmings Brothers Bank, had this to say. "We are already equals in the eyes of the law, what else do they want? To put predator above prey? What happens if there's a large population of sheep in my office and I receive a wolf applicant for a new position? Am I obliged to hire them and make my whole staff uncomfortable? Some mammals are simply better suited for some things, this is the way nature works, people. Get it through your heads."

After last week's decision by Judge Wallaby that there was no legal ground for denying the civil union of Judith Laverne Hopps and Nicholas Piberius…

* * *

"Howell. Howell! HOWELL!" Peter screamed at the wolf at his side.

Danielle Howell folded the newspaper she was reading and took a deep breath. Her light gray fur, white t-shirt and black pants blended in perfectly with the black and white of the paper. She lifted her bright green eyes and glanced at the jaguar. "What is it Clawson?"

His yellow eyes shone with this small victory. "Finally, thought you were sleeping! It was Beaverburg, right?" The yellow in his fur shone with a bright gold color in the rising sunlight as his black spots engulfed it, the pattern only being hidden by the blandness of his light blue long sleeved shirt and brown trousers.

"Beavertown. And it's called reading, Clawson." She sighed, "How far are we?"

"According to that delightful sign over there, 1000m, next left"

Beavertown was small, to say the least; 10,000 inhabitants, mostly agricultural. The warm coastal weather allowed for banana plantations, which were the main produce of the city. The main street held all municipal buildings; the city hall, court and police station being the bigger ones. A farmer's market bustled with buyers and sellers on the other side of the street, and the ZPD's large police car caught the attention of some heads as it parked at the police station.

Out of the car stepped a jaguar and a wolf, Peter Clawson and Danielle Howell. The market stalls went silent as Peter rounded the car and Danielle lit a cigarette. "Freaking rednecks." she mumbled.

They climbed the stairs into the police station. It was a well tidy wooden room, with a small trophy case sat at the back, and in front of it, a ram, dreaming in his rocking chair.

"Ahem." Peter cleared his throat, waking up the ram, "Good afternoon sir! I'm Detective Clawson and this is Detective Howell, ZPD. We are here to talk with Sheriff Kane."

Danielle noded.

The ram got of his chair, a bit surprised. "Joel's been dead for 3 years now." He explained. "I'm Sheriff Bellwether, Wayne Bellwether, what can I do for you two?"

The detectives exchanged a look. Sheriff Bellwether rolled his eyes.

"I know what you two are thinking. 'Oh, he's family to that crazy sonovagun that made all that ruckus in the big city'. Yes, I'm her brother and yes, sis' was bad in the head and even though she shamed our family's name, we are all honest folk here."

Danielle shrugged.

"Uh… well," Peter extended his paw, "Nice to meet you Sheriff. We are here about the murder of one John Bevyton."

"Murder? John? Are you mad?"

"We got a statement from Mrs. Bevyton this morning on the matter. It's supposed to have happened three days ago, we came here to look into the matter."

"Gods be darned, this must be some kind of misunderstanding. No one would hurt the Bevytons, they almost never come into town!"

"We've got two otters at Zootopia's precinct with a recorded statement." Danielle broke her silence. She puffed a cloud of smoke to her side, away from the other two. "Could you at least show us the Bevytons' place?"

"Sure, detective." Bellwether shuffled through his desk, finding his car keys. "Follow me."

They followed Bellwether's car out of town, passing huge fields of banana trees with the occasional large house. The fields were busy with workers picking bunches of bananas and storing them in small trucks.

Where the plantations ended, a small beach appeared. A dockyard could be seen in the middle of it and a medium sized boat was being hauled with banana crates.

Danielle slid down the car window, letting the wind in. As they were driving through a marsh on a dirty road, a sweet smell met her nose. Her mouth watered, _Rotting flesh..._ she thought. Danielle's stomach turned.

They stopped in the middle of a row of shacks. Trees grew between houses and leaves accumulated on the road and in front yards. Frogs, crickets and the car engines were the only sounds to be heard. The cops climbed out of their respective cars.

"Mrs. Bevyton! John!" cried the Sheriff. "Anyone home?" He climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. "Silvia! You there?"

Howell and Clawson followed his steps in silence. Clawson grabbed his pocket recorder and started recording.

"Detectives Clawson and Howell, arrived at the possible crime scene. A row of abandoned houses stand side by side adjacent the murder scene." A small dark red stain caught his attention on the window beside the door; it had accumulated ants. "A splattered stain on the house's right front window seems to confirm Mrs. Bevyton statement."

Howell smelled, "Coagulated blood." she confirmed.

"Silvia, I'm coming in." Bellwether pushed open the door. The interior was wrecked and deserted. "Gods have mercy, what happened here?!"

"Mrs. Bevyton's house seems to have been trashed." Clawson stated on his recording. He took a look at the door's lock. "No signs of forced entry, Mrs. Bevyton most likely forgot to lock the door after she fled."

Something caught Danielle's attention, a small box left untouched on the ground with a simple spin-lock. She put on gloves and picked it up; the woodcrafting was of good quality and the lock was made of copper. She opened it, revealing the box's red velvet interior and several white pearls that remained inside.

"A box of pearls was left untouched." said Howell.

"Yeah, John was our last pearl fisher. Quite the lungs, that one has." Bellwether looked to the spot on the window, the low orange light that came from outside making it look especially heinous. "Had…"

"Wait, there's something else..." Howell stepped outside. She laid low beside the Sheriff's car and sniffed. She tracked the scent of to the back of the house, but it went further. "Sheriff, is there a river up ahead?"

"Yeah, ol' Beaverun." said Sheriff Bellwether, walking around the house to look for the wolf. "It flows towards the dock, the way we came."

Howell jogged back to the road. "We've got a body! Clawson, grab the camera!" she shouted.

Clawson and Bellwether followed her down the road at a distance. From time to time, she would stop and lift her snout, breathing in the scent. The trail led them to a maze of trees and still water.

"Are there snakes here, Sheriff?" Howell asked, suddenly realising what she was doing.

"Yeah, some." The sheriff was trying to catch up with both predators, his shorter legs not helping. "Most will just stay away, Detective."

The scent took her to a small river branch, where she found John Bevyton. The body was tangled in the exposed roots of the many trees that grew alongside the river. Crabs had already started to eat away at the flesh of his feet, and the fish and other small insects integrating the mini ecosystem were already reclaiming Bevyton's body to mother nature. She could not understand how some mammals could eat this sort of thing.

"Sheriff, you might want to take a step back." she advised, as he got close.

"Nonsense, I'm a… Good gods!" he covered his mouth.

"Here, Detective Howell." Clawson offered her the camera, "I'll call dispatch."


	3. Jumping up to conclusions

She worked fast, as the body was already too decayed.

"Laceration to the neck, 10 centimeters long." She spread the cavity with her gloved hand, "3 centimeters deep, cut through both carotid arteries." Two flashes. "Did you get it?"

The big tiger nodded, staying as close to the door of the makeshift autopsy room as possible, Judy noticed. She hoped that the photos were good, they wouldn't be able to do this again.

Judy felt under the body; there seemed to be a puncture on its back. She collected some residue samples from the neck cut.

"Officer Bungalow, can you turn and hold the body sideways for me?" Judy asked.

"Detective… can't you just…" he babbled.

"I can't verify the wound without proper access." she explained.

"But…"

She thumped her foot impatiently, why did they assign her a rookie? He held the body sideways and turned his face away. There was a small wound on the back of the otter.

"Puncture wound on the back of the body." She inserted a piece of cotton with a pair of tongs, collecting a new sample. "7.3 centimeters deep, puncturing both the kidney and the liver." She grabbed the camera and took two photos. "See? Nice and quick. That will be all, Bungalow."

The tiger slowly let go of the body, laying it on its back once again. He ran outside, heaving. Judy took one last look at the body. _He wasn't any older than Nick..._ she thought, while closing the black bag's zipper and sealing it with tape. She threw her gloves in the trash can and reached inside her pocket, pulling out her wedding ring and putting it back on.

Outside, the ambulance was almost deserted; the area around the house was fenced with yellow barricade tape and only a few officers were assigned to collect any evidence that the damp climate hadn't already destroyed. She undid her lab coat and felt the seabreeze, clearing the air of the rotting smell. Detective Clawson waved to her.

"Hey Detective... is it Hopps or Wilde now?"

Judy smiled, "They kept it Hopps in the precinct, Clawson, but I'm a Wilde now."

"Well, what can you tell us? Hey, Howell! Judy is out of the murder-mobile!"

The wolf approached them, "Hopps." She nodded.

"Hey, Howell." Judy liked her quiet type. "Well, it seems that the testimony was right; a puncture wound on the back, a deep cut in the neck. This was a very cold killer; he managed to cut both arteries in the neck. There must have been _a lot_ of blood." She gestured as if blood was squirting from her neck onto them. "Did you guys find anything new?"

"It seems that the pearl trade started to go bad around 6 or 7 years ago." Howell looked at the abandoned shacks. "Sheriff told us that buyers simply started not showing up anymore. The town adopted bananas as a commodity and managed to be okay, but the otters didn't follow, as they had no other trade. The Bevytons were the last otter family in town, the last pred family, in fact."

"Oh, come on!" Judy punched the ambulance. "This crap here too? Can't we all get a break?"

"We?" Clawson raised an eyebrow, "Little soon for that kind of talk, don't you think?"

Judy scowled at Clawson, Howell had a grim smile.

"Oh, you made a big mistake Clawson. Try not to tear him a new one, Judy, I need my partner." Howell turned her back and waved, walking back to the crime scene.

"What is your problem?!" exclaimed Judy.

"What is _your_ problem, Detective? Just because you married a fox, doesn't mean you know what we go through, or 'Hail Mary!', you get to join the club!" Clawson crossed his arms, "Things went completely bonkers because you two couldn't keep it in your pants."

"Oh, sure. My marriage broke society. Hey, look!" Her cellphone rang, "I'm getting a call from the bigots' club, they're taking applicants for complete assholes. You seem to fit the bill, wanna take the call?" She extended the cellphone to him, with a smirk.

"Your civil union made things worse, prick." Clawson stomped off.

Judy smiled, and answered the call. "Detective Hopps."

"Oh... I thought we were both going as Detective Wilde, now."

"It would drive Bogo insane, that's for sure. How are you, hubby?"

"Feels good in the mouth, doesn't it?"

"Like carrot cake."

"So… how is bananaland? Humid and deadly? Anything tried to eat you yet?" Nick asked.

"It isn't that different from my parents' home, really. Has some days that don't rain around here, so it's all a bit dry and dusty. Feels good to have my feet back on the ground, though." She took a seat on the ambulance's step. "So, how are things back home? Has civil war broken out yet?"

"Oh, Carrots, it's horrible! This evening, and I swear this is true, an old sheep hugged me. IN. THE. STREET! Can you believe it? She even told me that she was PROUD of how brave we were! I can't take this Judith Laverne Wilde, we're gonna have to move with your parents."

"Oh no, Nick, not my parents! You have to fox-up and be a civil rights hero, or I'll never get you blueberries from the farm again."

"You monster, how could you say that?"

They shared a laugh.

"Nick?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"Do be careful, okay? The otter here… it's likely that he was killed by a prey." Her ears lowered.

"Hey, Carrots, don't worry! I only work as a handler and investigating organized crime, safest job on the force!"

"Jerk, try not to get killed before I get back. I'm too young to be a widow." She dangled her feet under the ambulance.

"Oh, don't worry Judy. We wouldn't want you to go through such an inconvenience, now would we? I'll try my best to not run into any angry demonstrators or gentle old ladies."

"Oh! Nick! I forgot to tell you! Do you have any idea who the Sheriff is here?"

"Lemme guess, Bogo's mom? Is she as bulky as him?"

"Bellwether's brother."

He fell silent.


	4. A lead

Clawson climbed into the car, Howell already back to her newspaper. He checked the mirrors, put on his seatbelt and closed his eyes. "1… 2… 3… 4… 5…" he counted and took a deep breath. He looked at himself in the rear-view mirror and smiled.

"The mayor asked for us to drop by city hall, wanted an update on the situation." Howell said, without interrupting her reading.

"Fine." he started the car.

The dirt road was in very good shape, he noticed. It likely had very little traffic all year round. The morning sun played with lights and shadows as the car passed by, the river shining brightly behind the trees, slowly and steadily flowing to the sea. Soon enough, the small port came back into view, the boat from earlier had left the docking bay and the cranes were left unmanned. Once busy and bustling with workers, it now had only a bunny dressed in a security guard uniform fishing on its edge, beside a small wooden cabin. A security camera stood unmoving over his head, aiming towards the road.

Peter floored the brake pedal. Howell looked at him, puzzled.

"Are you freaking kidding me!?" He exclaimed, shifting the car into reverse. He stopped near the beginning of the wooden dock and got out of the car. The bunny noticed the car stopping and placed his rod in a steel support.

"Oh." Howell said.

Peter got out of the car and semi-jogged towards the dock's security guard, "Good morning sir! I'm Detective Clawson, ZPD. How are you?"

The fat bunny scratched his head under his small security hat. "Mornin' Detective, I'm Frederick Warren. I'm doin' fine, it's a beautiful day. How do you do?" Warren extended his hand.

Clawson took it, his paw enveloping Warren's. "Feeling very good today, Mr. Warren! Please, don't mind me asking, I've never seen a bunny fishing. How are they biting?"

"They don't seem to be that interested in my bait today, weather is getting too damn cold for the fish. It's a damn shame, I sometimes… The hell? HEY, LADY! Where do you think you're goin'?!" Warren took off around the house after Howell.

"Sorry, Sir, I was looking for the bathroom." Howell spoke in a sheepish tone. "I'm Detective Howell, ZPD."

The door wasn't locked, so Peter pushed it open. The cabin was a small and cozy place; a bunk bed at one side of the room, a fireplace at the other. He also noticed a small notebook computer plugged to a router.

"Ain't you got any freaking manners? Why the hell didn't you ask?!" Warren shouted.

Two cables were connected to the router, one of the lines went through the wall straight to the camera in the front of the cabin, the other one went around it, to what seemed to be another camera on the opposite side.

"I… really had to go, sorry for not asking. Could you please show me the bathroom?" Peter looked over to see Danielle's head hanging low, seeming very embarrassed. _Holy crap, you're good at this._ he thought.

Also plugged into the computer was a normal-looking tape recorder. Peter ejected the tape, it read "5". A stack or similar tapes stood by its side, each labeled a number "1" through "7".

"There's no bathroom for your kind here, wolf. If you need it that bad, go find a goddamn tree and get the hell away from this dock!"

Peter swiped tapes 1 through 4 and put them in his pocket. He went back outside and closed the door, silently.

Howell jogged past the cabin, covering her face. Warren was stomping toward Peter.

"The hell is she? Your partner?!" shouted Warren, he was livid.

"Yeah, Mr. Warren. Sorry for…"

"Then GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE! YOU DAMN PREDATORS THINK YOU CAN DO ANYTHING NOW? I WILL BEAT YOU SENSELESS, BOY!"

Peter backed away, "Sorry Mr. Warren! I'm going, I'm going!" he ran to the car and got in. The bunny was still shouting angrily as they drove away.

Howell smiled, "So?"

Clawson threw the tapes in her lap, "Think they brought a CCTV tape player from precinct?"

Howell pulled a cigarette from her shirt pocket and lit it. She inhaled the smoke and let it out of her nose. "I love a good smoke after screwing someone." She smiled, Wilde's classes had been paying off.

They drove in silence back to the crime scene. They sounded their siren when they got there.

"Anyone bring a CCTV tape reader?" Clawson shouted.

"Yeah, I've got one in the van." Detective Hopps signaled him to follow.

Howell jogged over, getting close to Peter.

"Does it bother you?" she asked, coyly.

"Does what bother me?"

"Feeling like a dick?" Howell laughed.

They approached the van, Hopps had opened the back door and revealed a small mobile lab, scoring both electronic and chemical analysis tools. She grabbed a reader and plugged it into her small notebook.

"Do you know how to use one of these?" Hopps asked, with a scowled expression.

"Yeah, I…" Clawson began to answer.

"Don't break anything, Detective. And warn me when you're done, I'll grab a coffee." Hopps walked away.

Howell smiled.

Clawson inserted the first tape, the video dividing the screen in two; the upper half showing the front of the cabin, the lower half the sea. A timestamp in the lower right corner read 7:47AM.

He fast-forwarded the video, to 12:21PM. John Bevyton seemed to be arguing with Security Guard Warren. Bevyton walked towards the city after that.

4:04PM, Bevyton was back. He and Warren spoke to each other and Warren handed a harpoon to Bevyton. Bevyton went off-camera.

5:13PM, a red motorboat bearing a sheep and a bunny went through the back side camera, at an distance.

6:47PM, Bevyton was back on camera. He and Warren talked some more. Bevyton handed something small to Warren and Warren gave him a thread of twine. Bevyton tied fish together with the string and put them on his shoulder. He waved to Warren and turned his back, taking the path to his home. Warren spit.

8:35PM, the red motorboat returned, both passengers hooded.

"We got a lead!" exclaimed Howell in a surprised tone.

11:02PM, a blue pickup truck stopped, with a bunny in the driver seat. They talked for some time, until the driver gave Warren a bag and left.

5:22AM, a cargo boat arrives. Warren gives the captain some forms for him to sign and the bag he received earlier.

5:57AM, dawn breaks.

6:45AM, Mrs. Bevyton runs toward Warren, she seems very distressed. He seems to refuse something. She runs back to the road.

7:14AM, a small rowboat with two otters aboard can be seen on the back camera. They seem to headed for open sea.

"She rowed all the way to Zootopia?!" exclaimed Clawson, "Are you serious?"

"She actually managed to row for a full day, but a cargo ship saw them and gave a ride" Howell scratched her neck, "We were very lucky and she was very dumb."

"Fear does that to people." Clawson noticed that the recording had stopped. It displayed 7:56AM on the edge of the screen.

Peter ejected the tape and slid the second one inside, it read 8:01AM now.

He fast-forwarded the tape; nothing of interest happened for a long time, until,

6:11PM, the red boat passed by again.

7:50PM, the red boat passed back.

"You think they were…" Clawson stopped the video. The low quality of the image wouldn't allow for any better identification, the boat would have to do.

"They didn't go back for cash, that's for sure." She grabbed the third tape. "We should ask another officer to review these, every minute that goes by will make it harder for us to find anything."

Peter printed a series of pictures. "We should question Warren."

"And Bellwether, he should know who owns that boat." She grabbed the pictures and started to shuffle through them.

"Aren't we forgetting something?" Clawson suddenly remembered.

"What?"

"Weren't we supposed to go talk to the mayor?"


	5. Greet and meet

A statue of a rabbit and a sheep stood on top of a mound in front of the rising sun, which shone gold light over their fur. The sheep carried a blunderbuss, the rabbit a book; both extended towards the sky. A white sash laid on the ground between them, reading the town's motto, "COMMUNITY, PROSPERITY, UNITY."

"Beautiful, isn't it?" The mayor's secretary was beside them. "It was painted by my great-great-granduncle some two hundred years ago, and it's stood here ever since. It was actually made while they built this building, can you believe it? The wood used here actually came from way south, this natural red is not paint but actually pau brazil and..."

Howell and Clawson looked at her, Clawson wearing a small smile.

"Oh! Right! Sorry, here am I talking you two to death again! It's just so nice to be able to talk to city folk and be the first to tell them about our history!" She fanned herself with her hoof, "And here I am babbling on again. The mayor is ready to see you two, please follow me, officers!" she opened the door for them.

 _Tereza Bellwether, 53 years old, never married, aunt to the Sheriff, lives with her parents, cousins and nephews at the Bellwether estate, and can't keep anything to herself._ Danielle thought.

The mayor's office was quite modern, compared to the rest of the building; an LCD monitor stood on his desk, with a keyboard and mouse nearby. On the wall, a large television screen was tuned in to ZNN, it seemed that a new rally was occurring in front of the House of Representatives. On the back wall of the room, big windows overlooked the main street and all of its bustling commerce.

Standing in front of the desk was a rabbit, his dark gray fur giving way to shades of lighter gray and white in places, especially around his nose. He welcomed both with a large smile.

"Oh, hello Detectives, good to see you both! I'm Theodore Warren, Beavertown's Mayor for four terms. It seems that we've a lot to talk about. Could you bring us all coffees, Ms. Bellwether?"

With a small hop, he seated himself at a table. As Bellwether left the room, he adjusted his cuff links. He wore a violet velvet vest, with gold and pearl buttons, Danielle noticed.

"I'm Detective Clawson and this is Detective Howell, ZPD. What can we do for you, Mr. Warren?"

"Well, y'all could start by dragging less attention to yourselves. We're not used to this much ruckus in town, and with all the mess that the Congressmen went and started…" He took a glance at the TV. "You Zootopians aren't exactly the people want to see here, at this moment. No offence meant."

"We did not meant cause a 'ruckus' sir, but a murder is no small thing and…" Clawson started.

"Shush child, let's listen to Congressman Warren for a moment." the Mayor interrupted, picking up the controller and unmuting the television.

* * *

"... and we will not stand for this _abuse_ of our rights. All should be _equal_ by law and we are seeing on the streets that the PEOPLE are against this! So why did this bill pass? What should I say to my voters? That the voice of Beavertown is just worth less than Zootopia's?" An energetic brown bunny spoke on the television, his blue suit without a single wrinkle.

"So you don't agree that predators should have their rights guaranteed by law?" Asked a female reporter, extending her microphone back towards the rabbit.

"Zootopia has a constitution, and its reach extends all the way to the South Sea. Its laws have given equal rights to both prey _and_ predators since the founding of this great city, this great civilization! But prey and predator are two very different things. There's balance to be kept and we are, after all is said and done, animals that follow the laws of Nature. It's only natural that kind would treat kind better, it's how we are raised! How we are meant to be!"

"But are you aware that, since the Equality Act's approval, many requests for unions between different species, and even between prey and predator, have been flooding City Hall? Shouldn't these families be protected?"

"Well, that's just another aberration spawn from this law, isn't it? How will these animals ever have a family? Have you thought about how this might make some species extinct? This sort of prohibition was to _protect_ all species from not generating descendants, it was pro-diversity! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a hearing to get to."

The rabbit entered Congress Hall, the crowd applauding him.

"That was Congressman Warren, for ZNN. He is scheduled to speak to the House of Representatives in a few minutes and is…" the reporter continued speaking, but no sound came from the television.

* * *

The mayor muted the television again.

"Brother has a way with words, doesn't he?" He spoke with a smile.

"You… could say that." answered Clawson.

Danielle plucked a cigarette from her front pocket and bit it hard, almost slicing the filter. She flicked out her lighter and lit it.

"Ms. Howell, you can't..."

"Look, Mr. Theodore, I have to ask, are you related to one Frederick Warren?" She inhaled the smoke deeply and puffed it at the Mayor's face.

He waved his hand, clearing the smoke. "Yes, Frederick is my third cousin. Have you met? Why do you ask?"

"Well, I'm sorry to inform you, but Mr. Frederick is involved in the investigation, so we won't be able to provide you any information about the ongoings of it."

"That's quite absurd, Ms. Howell! I'm the Mayor of this town, I HAVE to know if there's a murderer among us or not! And most of the animals here _are_ Warrens, how would you keep details from us just because we are related? _Everyone_ is related here!"

She inhaled, feeling the hot smoke fill her lungs. The nicotine was calming and the cigarette gave her time to think. "Well, firstly, Mr. Theodore, I'm a Detective; and it would do you a lot of good to address me as such." She slowly exhaled the smoke, letting the white fog descend over her. "And secondly, unlike your brother, I'm not interested in your mating habits. It was so nice meeting you, but we have a lot of work to do, and no time to waste. Let's go Detective Clawson." She turned and walked out the door, leaving both the jaguar and the rabbit wide eyed.

On her way out she stumbled over the secretary, carrying three coffees.

"Oh, Detective Howell! Are you ok? Do you need anything? Does the Mayor needs me?" Thereza asked.

Danielle grabbed one of the bunny sized cups of coffee and drank it. _Too sweet_ , she thought. "We were just leaving, Ms. Bellwether. It was nice meeting you, and thanks for the coffee. Now if you'll excuse us." Danielle resumed walking.

As she was exiting the building, Clawson caught up to her.

"You could've said goodbye, at least. It's only polite." said Clawson, walking side by side with her.

She stopped and turned toward him, her big bright green eyes looking deep in his small yellow ones. Danielle grabbed her cigarette and stubbed it out in his badge. "We have work to do." she said with a smirk.

She led them back to the small police station. When she laid her paw in the door handle, Clawson held her arm and whispered, "Listen!"

She stopped, her ears shooting up as she paid a bit more attention to the outside world. The voice of Sheriff Bellwether could now be heard within the station.

"No sir, I'm not part of the investigation."

A small pause.

"Because we don't have the necessary equipment to…"

"I understand sir, but…"

"It's regular procedure for detectives to come and…"

A longer pause.

"Ted, come on, what do want me to do? Kick them outta town? You know that we…"

A small pause.

"Kane was an accident, Ted. You were there, you know how it went. This was a murder, we have to let them sort this out."

The conversation suddenly stopped. After a few moments, Clawson released her arm and took a step back.

After a moment of thought, Danielle chose to knock, and was answered with a tired "Come in" from behind the door.

Sheriff Bellwether was seated at his desk, his head down, resting in his hooves. He lifted his eyes and took a few moments to realize who just had came in.

"Sheriff, good afternoon." spoke Danielle

"'Noon." answered the tired sheriff.

"Sheriff Bellwether, we need your help. Could you take a look at these photos? They might be crucial to the investigation." Danielle handed him the bundle of photos, while Clawson turned on his recorder.

"I'll record you, if that's okay?" asked the jaguar.

"Sure." Bellwether picked up the first picture; it was of Security Guard Warren handing a bag to the captain of the cargo ship. "Oh, this is Captain Steworth. He's a pig from Zootopia who ferries our produce to the capital."

"Anything to note about him?" asked Danielle.

"Oh, not much. He rarely goes ashore. Never really talked to the fellow, myself."

He picked up the second picture, it was of the rabbit delivering the bag to Security Guard Warren.

"Okay, this is weird… That's one of Warren boys, his name is Bob. He is… a nephew of the Mayor, I think. There are way too many Warrens to remember each one."

He picked up the third photo, his eyes widened. The fourth one made him take a seat.

"Sheriff Bellwether? Do you know whose boat is this?" asked Danielle, worried.

He looked at her, fear in his eyes.

"Yes." he answered in a very solemn manner.

"This information is crucial to the investigation, whose boat is this?"

"That's my boat."


	6. The red boat

"This feels wrong, doesn't it?", Peter asked, walking around Wayne's house.

"Hunrum", Danielle answered. She carried their camera, ready to register the room before disturbing it in any way.

"I mean, he gave us his house keys. He isn't… like… trying to delay the investigation or anything.". Peter got close the the big wooden door and fiddled with the keys, trying to find the right one for the big padlock.

The Sheriff's house was quite easy to spot: was the smaller white house next to the Warren's fields of banana trees. It's roof made of reddish clay tiles gave it a distinct tone against the green of the trees and the blue of the sea at it's back. A small shack stood at the edge of the property were, according to him, he stored the boat and hadn't used it since summer.

"And yet, his boat was most likely used by the murders." As Peter slid the door, Howell started to take photos of the shack. It was a regular storehouse, tools filled the walls.

*FLASH*

Peter put on his gloves and paid close attention to the ground, it seemed that it hadn't been swept by for a few days, a thin layer of dust above it.

*FLASH*

The tables and tools had a thicker layer of dust, they were unattended for a longer time than the floor. The red boat stood at the center of the storehouse, a ramp and doors led to the beach in Wayne's backyard.

They both stood in awe for a second, days before two people rode that same boat with the intent to take a life and now it laid there, motionless, hiding answers for a crime it had witnessed.

"We should call someone from forensics right away.", said Peter, breaking the silence.

"You mean Hopps."

Peter walked deeper into the room, few other things were inside beside the boat. Something caught his eye: a trash can.

"Well, she is the only one around.", he crouched. There was a rag in the top of the trash can. He picked it and took it outside, to the light. The rag had two dark red stain drags in the middle of it.

"Can you believe these people?', Peter stored the rag in a plastic bag. "What the hell were they thinking?"

"They either never had done it or never expected to have someone investigating it.", answered Howell. "Clawson, call the other Officers, we need to isolate this area. There will be more evidence here than anywhere else."

"On it.", Peter started going back to their car, "Won't you come?"

"You are a big boy already Clawson, you can call for the other officers by yourself. I'll take more pictures, who knows what might get disturbed when the other Officers arrive.", she turned her back and got back to taking picture inside the storehouse.

Peter went back to their car and got to the radio.

"This is Detective Clawson to mobile station, over."

"This is Officer Java at Mobile, what do you need Detective, over."

"We have found the killers' boat. We need both Forensics and Officers to isolate the area, over."

"We are running thin on Officers to isolate another area Detective, should we at least leave a patrol here? Over."

"I'm giving a clear to abandon the crime scene, Officer. What was there, Forensics managed to collect along the day. This new area is priority one: Beachway Street, nº 12. Move all Officers to this position. Over"

"Roger Detective, Java out."

Peter leaned back in the passenger seat, things weren't quite connecting by now, but they actually might get the perpetrator. He let the quiet of the sunset set in, hearing only the crickets on the grass. And a cock being pulled.

"... Detective Howell, ZPD. Please stand down sir!", he heard Howell shout, afar.

"You are a trespasser, that's who you are! And I ain't havin' none of that!", an angry voice sounded.

"Danger", Peter thought. Instinct and training kicked in, his gun was in his hand before he even noticed. He moved quietly, laying on all fours, not a single twig cracking below his paws.

Howell was at the door of the storehouse, hands in front of her, protectively. In front of her was a ram holding a rifle by his hip, pointing at her.

"You freaking preds think you can just barge in town and do whatever you want? We ain't gonna allow it. Now die you sonovagun.", the ram held the rifle against his shoulder.

Peter leaped, both paws projected in front of him, his claws out. His gun was on the ground the moment the sheep started to take aim. He was on autopilot by that point on.

BAM! A thunderous sound sound pierced the quiet of the coming night, echoing in the fields nearby.

Peter's claws sank in the ram's left arm and back, his blood staining the white shirt he wore. The training came back now, he forced the elbow down in the ground and grabbed the gun, shoving it away from the wounded ram. He breathed heavily.

He looked at Howell, she had covered her face with her arms, trying to protect herself. She panted.

"Danielle! Are you alright?!", shouted Peter.

"HEEEELP! I'M BEING ATTACKED!", screamed the ram. A siren could be heard afar.

She patted her body: shoulders, chest, belly, legs. She noded, her mouth open, taking the air in.

Peter recovered control over himself, "Sir, you are under arrest for assaulting an officer of the law!".

The ram tried to make him lose balance by turning, but Peter pressed his shoulder, making him scream in pain.

"And for possession of a firearm!", he grabbed a pair of cuffs from his belt and pulled the left arm of the ram against his back, cuffing it. "You have the right to remain silent and everything you say may be used against you in court!", he pulled the right arm and cuffed the other hand.

"SOMEONE HELP ME!", the ram screamed, loud.

Howell picked the gun and opened it, it was a single shot rifle. The shell went flying to the ground, still smoking.

"Howell! Grab my gun! It's over there!", he pointed with his head, holding the ram to the ground.

Howell went to the gun but, as soon as she reached it, she pulled her own. "POLICE! STAND DOWN! HANDS IN THE AIR!", she shouted. She crouched, gun pointed, and grabbed his gun, putting it on her pocket.

She took three steps back. "I WANT TO SEE HANDS AGAINST YOUR HEADS! STAND AGAINST THE WALL!".

Three bunnies came from the corner of the house with hands against their heads.

"Now face the wall! And no funny business!", Howell stood a few feet behind them, keeping her gun pointed.

"We just came here to help Ted, Officer.", the first bunny said.

"Yeah ma'am!", the second bunny spoke.

"And then we saw the big police car and imagination went awry, we just ran as fast we could to get here.", the third bunny completed.

Screeching sounds and the thumping of hooves and paws stormed the ground. Gun in hand the other officers stormed the backyard.

"Help Clawson and frisk these three", ordered Howell.

An elephant lifted the ram with his trunk. Other officers checked the rabbits for anything of relevance and took notes of who they were and why they were there.

"Put him in one of the patrols and patch him up. We will interrogate him in the Sheriff's office.", said Peter, cleaning his paws.

He could access better the situation now: the three rabbits should be just neighbors, they most likely could be dismissed. The firearm would be confiscated, they had been forbidden for 50 years by this point, but where did that ram get ammunition? It isn't like you could buy gunpowder anywhere.

"Howell!", Peter exclaimed, "I think we can send those off. We caused a huge commotion, they are only worried neighbors."

"Oh sure Detective Clawson, these two are.", Howell pointed at the first two bunnies, "Now this one…", she grined, approaching her snout to the face of the third one, "Has a lot to talk to us, don't you Mr Bob Warren?"

The bunny gulped.


	7. There's no place like a broken home

She opened the door, the street lights played with the furniture creating silent shadows. A small family home, she figured. As she stepped in the house the tiger behind her towered close to the ceiling, his eyes shining yellow in the badly lit room.

"Officer Bungalow, turn on the lights, will you?", Judy asked.

The tiger flipped the switch: two sofas, a small TV set, a fireplace, some family photos and a small staircase upwards. She approached the fireplace, one of the pictures was of a wolf and a sheep posing, both in brown sheriff uniforms, the wolf an old one, shades of white covering his snout, the sheep almost a lamb, maybe in his twenties.

A second picture was of a ram and a ewe, they held a small lamb close to their breast. The joy in their eyes, the innocence in the lamb's face. "This was long ago", she thought, "What went wrong?". She held her camera for a minute, would that be relevant?

"Bungalow, try the luminol in the kitchen knifes. I'll head upstairs."

"Sure Detective Boss."

She stopped.

"Have Nicholas called you, Officer Bungalow?"

"He may or may not, boss.", the tiger smiled, shyly.

She returned the smile. Icarus had a good heart, he just needed to toughen up a bit. He would manage.

Judy climbed the stairs, turning on the lights along the way, there were two bedrooms upstairs. The bigger one had a double bed with a single pillow on it. By the bed a nightstand held a single picture of the same ewe, a younger version of her.

She looked under the bed and a bit of dust was all she could find. Inside the closet some closed off cardboard boxes under police uniforms and well folded shirts caught her attention, she opened one to reveal a faint smell of old and a bunch of folded dresses. Judy took a deep breath, she would no longer intrude.

To the second bedroom she went. A single bed stood there, undone, a wardrobe and a small study table. She checked under the bed: books, a few dirty clothes and a dirty piece of fabric. She put on her gloves and picked it up, and two bullets fell from it. They were large .308 bullets, the brass was already getting green from age, the back of the bullet read 90 years ago. "Quite out of place", she thought as she took photos of the bag and bullets. The plain dirty piece of cloth had dried stains of oil, but in some places it was still damp, "He knew how to maintain it". She slid the bullets in a small evidence bag.

She opened the wardrobe, clothes hang above her and some laid folded in piles. She shoved her hand inside, reaching for the back of it, but nothing was there. She grabbed her flashlight and looked the wardrobe: there was something in the back of it, pressed against the wall, she could see it's wooden edge.

"Bungalow! Come up here a bit!", she shouted.

The tiger jogged up the stairs and showed his face through the door. "Yes Detective?", he asked.

"Would you be a dear and move this wardrobe for me?"

'Sure Detective!", he happily moved over her, reaching for the wardrobe with his paws.

"Bungalow. What do you _think_ you are doing?"

"I am… moving the wardrobe?", he answered, confused.

"Without gloves? Did you forget protocol?"

'Oh!", he exclaimed. He reached for his back pocket and picked a pair of disposable gloves. "Gloves on!"

"Now you can resume moving the wardrobe", she smiled, motherly.

The tiger held one of the edges of it and pulled. A small thud followed.

"Thank you. Now let's see what we have behind door number two.", said Judy.

A small wooden box laid on the ground, a beautiful engraving laid above it: a ram and a buck raising each a rifle and a book towards the sky, under them a sash read "fortis in hostes".

The box was heavy for its size, she laid it on the study table and pulled a chair. She opened the small box, revealing a small bowie knife, a badge and a small folded parchment.

The was heavy and very sharp. Its pommel was made of bone and the handle was covered in… fur? Thick black fur? She passed her fingers through it to reveal… skin. It was skin of an mammal.

"Bungalow, give me the luminol."

The tiger extended the flask for her. She sprayed the substance and allowed it to dry a bit. Bungalow turned on his UV flashlight and the dagger shone a ghostly pink. A bit of the fur also had bright pink spots, a thick line on the bone pommel.

She laid the dagger on the table and took a picture. "That should be enough", she thought. She returned her attention to the box and its insides. She unfolded the small piece of parchment.

* * *

Brother Bellwether, the time has come for you to prove your value.

You have been tasked with completing the cleanse of Beavertown, Initiate #7 will assist you on your hunt.

Use all means you deem necessary.

Warden Marcus, Lapinfort Chapter

* * *

"This is the most awkward thing I've ever seen", spoke Bungalow, over her head.

"Give it a few years, you will get used to every brand of crazy"

She picked the medallion. Most of the weight if the box was in it: thick and made of bronze its back side it read "Brother Bellwether, #32, Beavertown". In the front a rabbit and a sheep stood in front of a sun rise, both holding spears that pierced the chest of a wolf, which laid on the ground. On the edge it read "Hunter's Covenant".

A chill ran down her spine. "Well, we got enough evidence here to send either the father or the son to hell and back. Take some pictures of these and send them do Detective Howell, Bungalow. I'll head to the car, come when you are done."


	8. Talking to the flock

The patrol lights shone bright in the dusk. The banana trees changed from dark blue to reddish green as the patrol cars went by. Four cars parked in front of the small police station, bigger animals exited them, bigger than any other in that little town. Except for two.

An elephant carried a ram on her trunk, behind her a wolf pushed a buck, with his head hanging low. Howell watched as the group entered the police station, she looked up at the elephant, as she stopped in front of the two sizes too small door.

"I think I'll have to take him from here, Francine", Danielle smiled.

"This really is a backwater place huh?", she put the ram on the ground, his eyes staring at nothing, "Be careful with this one Detective, he's a pushy one."

"Oh, don't worry. He just tried to shoot, we will be dandy with one another.", she did a little shove on his back, "Let's go sweetheart, we won't bite."

As they entered, the two rams looked at each other. The younger one looked down, his head hanging, his eyes to his feet. The Sheriff weeped on his wooden chair.

Howell took the ram to a small interrogation room on the back of the police station. It had two chairs and a small cupboard where there was a jar of water and some glasses.

"Have a seat here Mr Bellwether.", said Clawson, inviting the ram to sit in front of him.

The room had no camera to record the interview, so they had to make do with their own. Howell positioned the camera over the cupboard, aiming at both Clawson and the ram. She pressed play and moved to the other side of the room, by the side of the ram, and leaned against one of the walls. She watched the ram carefully.

The ram glanced at her, a bit of anger on his eyes, but mostly shame.

"Could you please identify yourself, Mr Bellwether?", politely asked Clawson.

The ram sighed, "I'm Ted Bellwether, son of Wayne Bellwether, a farmer."

"Thank you Mr Bellwether! As you might imagine we have a lot of questions for you, but first I have to state your charges: attempt of murder of an officer of the law and possession of a firearm.", Clawson paused and watched the ram, but Ted just looked at his hooves.

"How did you acquire a firearm, Mr Bellwether?", proceeded Clawson.

"I found it.", the ram looked up, facing the jaguar.

"And where did you find a _working_ firearm?"

"Some place, can't remember right.", he smile.

Clawson stood up, the ram stiffed. The jaguar smiled, "I'm not gonna hurt you, don't worry. Do you want a glass of water?". He walked to the small cupboard and grabbed the jar.

"I… yes, please"

"Detective Howell, uncuff him, please"

Danielle exchanged a look with Peter, he seemed sure enough. She uncuffed the ram, who relaxed his wrists putting his posture more at ease.

Clawson seated back in front of the ram and extended him a glass of water.

"Look Ted, can I call you Ted?"

"No."

"Well Ted, here's how it is: you are facing at least twenty years ahead of you. That's a lot of time and you are a young and strong ram, you have a life ahead of you. How old are you?"

"I'm making 21 in two weeks.", the ram drank his water and laid the glass on the floor.

"See? If you help us, and Detective Howell here wouldn't hold a grudge against you, right?", Howell rolled her eyes, "We might look at 10, maybe 5 years.", Clawson smiled.

"I ain't giving you squat Detective.", said the ram, defyingly.

Clawson sighed, "Why did you attack Detective Howell?"

"She is a freaking wolf that invaded my family property. Gods know what she could be up to."

"Have you any idea why we were in your property? Who has access to your father's boat?"

"Just Pa and me."

"And when was the last time you two used the boat?"

"Two, maybe three weeks."

"Have you used the storehouse recently?"

"No."

He picked a set of pictures and flipped through some. "Do you know how this piece of fabric with blood got into the storehouse, then?", he extended the photo to Ted.

The ram looked at the picture for a while, his face now carried a blank expression. "Now he either gets it or he realized that he made a mistake", thought Danielle.

"Mr Bellwether?", asked Clawson, smiling.

"Pa may have cutted himself, dunno"

"Well, then we will have to arrest your father.", said Clawson, taking the picture back.

"What? He has done nothing!", exclaimed Ted.

"Well, someone did.", Clawson extended both pictures of the boat from the CCTV, "You see Ted, someone killed Mr Bevyton. You know, the otter. And this someone used your boat in order to do this. And then we have a rag covered in blood in the storehouse where the boat is stored. It's almost stupid, you know? Like if the killer thought that no one would care about John Bevyton's death."

Danielles phone buzzed, Clawson and Ted Bellwether looked at her. She picked the phone and exclaimed: "Oh!". She swiped her finger up and glared her eyes: "Ooooooh! Be right back!".

"Howell what are…", asked Clawson, but his voice went silent behind the door. Danielle went back to the police station office/reception where the other Officers awaited.

"I need a mini-usb cable and a printer! Now!", everyone looked at her, puzzled.

"Here, use my computer.", spoke the Sheriff in a muffled voice, awakening from his nightmare.

The Sheriff pushed his chair away from the computer as Danielle attached her cellphone to the cable.

The other Officers crowded around the printer as the images came out: a dagger shining pink, some sort of badge, a piece of parchment with something written in it.

"Out of the way! Are you on the fifth grade?", Danielle shooed the other Officers and grabbed the pictures. She quickly flipped through them and read the parchment. "Hot cheese and crackers, we actually got the bastard."

The Sheriff looked at the computer screen and held his head. "Oh son… you stupid fool...".

Danielle went back in the tight corridor and into the interrogation room.

"Ok Brother Bellwether, can you explain this and cut your bullshit?", she shoved the picture of the parchment in Ted Bellwether's face.

He held the picture in his hands, trembling. Danielle could smell his fear but the ram had resolution in his eyes.

"I killed the otter, father has nothing to do with this.", he extended the picture back to Howell.

She stood in front of him, lowering her head to his eye level, "Who is the rabbit?"

"I don't know.", answered the ram, his expression a stone wall.

"What is your organization?"

"I don't know."

"Look pal, you are facing life in prison here.", spoke Clawson while he flipped through the new pictures, "You have to give us something if you don't want to die in the jailhouse."

"So take me."

"You aren't getting off my paws that easy.", Howell grabbed and lifted him by his collar.

"What you gonna do, you freaking savage?"

Danielle blinked. She dropped him on the ground and reached for a smoke. The ram stood up and backed away, back to his chair. Danielle lighted her cigarette, the smoke damping her sense of smell and the calming heat filling her lungs. "I will find him, even if we have to test every fingerprint from every freaking rabbit in this god forsaken town."

"No one will know anything Detective. You got me, count your blessings."


	9. The prodigal Sheriff

Sheriff Bellwether seated on the chair assigned to him, Clawson in front of him.

"He did it, didn't he?", blurted the sheriff.

Peter looked at the ram: a shade of his yesterday self. "Another broken soul due to me simply doing my work. Great. Way to go Peter", thought to himself the jaguar.

"That's what the evidence indicates Mr Bellwether, yes.", he did a half smile, he could only guess what the ram was going through. "Sheriff, could you please state who you are for the recording?"

"I'm Wayne Bellwether, Beavertown's Sheriff."

"I will ask you a few questions, ok?", Peter extended his big paw on the rams shoulder.

The sheriff shuffled Peter's arm away, "I don't need your sympathy Detective, I have a duty to this town.". The ram recomposed himself, standing straight as an arrow in his chair, "ask away, I'll help the investigation in any way I can."

Peter glanced at Howell, she was still focused on her cigarette.

"Mr Bellwether, have you noticed any strange behavior from your son?"

"Not really… we usually saw each other only at night, when he wasn't out with his friends, that is.", he tapped his hoof at his badge, "The job keeps me here most of the day and…", Bellwether paused for a minute, the cigarette smoke made the air heavy, "I don't think I know my son that much anymore."

Howell grabbed her phone and started to text in it. "Come on Howell, you could at least pretend to help…", thought Peter.

"What do you know of the organization 'Hunters Covenant'?"

The sheriff scratched the base of one of his horns, "They were an old association of preys some two hundred years ago. They helped to found this town and such. But that was before Zootopia's integration of bordering towns some 50 years ago."

"They were speciesists?"

"Most of the old folk were. Some never saw a wolf, a tiger or anything out of the regular. We, sheep and rabbits, flocked this region because it was good for farming, we aren't used to deal with other folk."

"But you had a wolf Sheriff and otter pearl fishers."

"Aye, that's true. Beavertown traded with Zootopia since forever. A many years back we had even some jewelers come down here and set up shop.", he smiled, "it was simpler back then, we farmed rice, the otters fished pearls and I was a young lamb."

"Why the pearl trade died out?"

"City folk just… stopped buying them, I guess. It devastated the otter folk on the bay, it was their craft for so long… after that we saw more families leave each year."

"Was there any kind of violence? Was this the first murder?"

"There was a quarrel here and there at the pub, but regular stuff, you know? We rarely were called, and when we had to show up we gave a sting or two and everything was settled."

"Sting?", asked Howell.

"Yeah, look", the sheriff picked up his pistol and opened the pellet case. There were four red pellets in there. "You city folk use your fancy tranquilizer rounds, but they are way too expensive for us to make. So we collect the poison of jellyfishes: you can do it in a barrel and they work as well as. One of these pellets and you'll be a week in the hospital from the excruciating pain. Makes troublemakers think once or twice before doing something dumb."

"Sheriff, do you have a fingerprint database here?', asked Clawson, "This might be the only way for us to find who helped your son in the murder."

"We... have… yes. It's an old computer but we should have twenty years worth of fingerprints. It will be a lot of work for you guys to find it, though."

"How do you think your son acquired a firearm?"

"You guess is as good as mine. We don't sell those here, that's for sure."

"I have one last question Sheriff", Howell put her smartphone back in her pocket, "How did your wife died?'

Any resemblance from happiness vanished from the sheriff's face. "She… was killed by former Sheriff Kane."

"How?", interjected Howell.

"I… he… we don't know exactly… we were in the harvest festival and… somehow… a Night Howler got in his food. I shot him once, but the pain… made him angrier… he didn't stop… he attacked the crowd and… Shirley…", the sheriff looked at the wall, lost in his memories, his paws clenched, "he bit her head… I shot Joel again… I screamed for him to stop… and I shot again… and again… it was too late… Joel… he was my friend… he had an… anamia… anaflia… something shock, how is it called?"

"Anaphylactic shock?', said Peter, trying to help the ram.

"Yeah, that. He was allergic to whatever is in the jellyfish's venom.", he stood up and went for a glass of water. He drink it calmly, as if each sip of water helped he accept the fact so many years after. "It's been just me and Ted since…"

"Why it wasn't reported as a murder? Why wasn't ZPD called?', asked Howell, sharply.

"Look Detective… it was hard enough as things were. No one had anything against Sheriff Kane. We thought it was an accident at the time…", the sheriff looked deep at his empty glass of water, "But now…Maybe there's someone to blame."

"Thank you Sheriff, that will be all.", said Peter, extending his hand to the Sheriff, "You are a paramount of this city and ZPD is honored to work with you in this case."

The sheriff shaked his hand. He left the room looking ten years older than when he entered. Peter closed the door behind him.

"What the hell Danielle?"

"What?", asked Howell, surprised.

"Do you really needed to pressure him like that?"

"We needed his son's motif, now we have it.", she shrugged.

"And how did you knew that?"

"I found a bit off that the kid's mom never came up either in conversation or in the police station, so I asked Hopps if she found anything else."

"If you already knew it why…"

"Clawson.", the wolf squinted her eyes, "We need this sort of crap recorded."

"Could you at least be a bit more… I don't know, sensitive about it?"

"I'm a cop, not a nurse. My duty is to dig out the truth and find the culprit, not to pat mammals in the back.", Howell reached for a cigarette, but her pack was empty, "That's just great…"

Howell walked out of the room. Peter sat at his chair and revised the interviews so far. "Maybe we shouldn't have picked that buck. He will just say that he delivered groceries or something.". He played with the pictures in his paws, looking for anything that they might've missed.

His ears turned. He stood up and opened the door: just an empty corridor. He heard something moving outside, he thought.


	10. Coffee

Danielle went outside, she needed the fresh air.

"Hey, Francine!", she exclaimed to the elephant, "Are there any coffee shops in this dump?'

The elephant sighed and seated in the small staircase, "Nah, everything is closed this late. So, how were the interviews?"

"Productive". Danielle paid attention to the quietness of the town: 8pm and everyone was already in their houses, not even a mouse making any kind of sound. "The Sheriff should have some coffee, don't you think?"

"If only someone could go inside and ask him… it would make me so happy…", Francine smiled playfully at her.

"All right, all right. Black, no sugar?"

"Dark as midnight."

Danielle went back inside. The other officers had settled in by now: the young ram was in a small jail cell or, let's be honest, a cage; the older ram was filling some kind of paperwork on his desk, the young buck was shivering in his seat, waiting for being taken to be interviewed; the other ZPD officers were spread around the small room, the wolves packed in a corner close to a window. She hated wolves.

"Hey, Sheriff Bellwether!", she walked up to his desk, "Do you have any coffee?"

"Oh, yeah. Would you like some? We have a coffee machine right there.", he pointed to a low cupboard close to his desk. "Make yourself at home Detective."

Danielle filled the coffee machine with water and poured the powder in the filter. Soon enough the machine gurgled and she served five cups of the black liquid.

She knocked first at the interrogation room. Clawson opened the door and looked at her a bit confused.

"Coffee?", she extended a small cup to him.

"Oh, thanks."

She went back to the reception, grabbed another cup and laid it close to the sheriff. He looked up at her with his weary eyes and a half smile, she smiled back.

She put the three remaining cups in a small plastic tray and walked to Detective Hopps. "Hey Hopps, want to grab a coffee with me and Francine?"

"Oh!", exclaimed Judy, surprised, "Sure!", she turned back to the big tiger, "Bungalow, finish sending these files back to central, ok?". The tiger noded.

They both walked outside and the cool sea breeze blew through the streets. The three seated on the staircase, each in a taller step than the other, trying to stay at the same eye level. They siped their coffees slowly, tasting it carefully.

"Mine is a bit too sweet", said Francine.

"And mine is a bit too bitter", said Danielle.

"Mine is just right", said Judy.

They laughed.

"I gotta ask Danielle, why don't you hang out with the other wolves? Aren't you super close to each other?", asked the Francine.

"None of you smoke, right?", Danielle looked at both of them, "I could really go for a smoke right now…". She laid her empty cup on the ground and stretched her legs. "Family stuff. I'm just not a big fan of my kind."

"Does it bother you?', asked Judy.

"No. It's not like there are only wolves in the world. Do you miss stumbling in bunnies all the time?"

"Some times. But me and my parents, and my brothers, and sisters, and cousins, and…", Judy noticed the other two smirking, "You got the idea, we are very close."

"You could've just said 'my family'.", teased Francine.

"Nick is my family", answered Judy, defiantly.

"You got balls, Mrs Wilde", said Danielle, smiling. "How did your parents react to it?"

"My mom knew way before I told her. Moms know this sort of stuff, you know?", Judy looked up to the moon, recalling, "Dad didn't take it that well at first, but Nick is a very sweet guy when he wants to. They were there at the ceremony, so everything is ok now."

Judy snapped back from her memories. "How long have you been in the force, Danielle?"

"Thirteen years, something like that"

"And how long have you been a Detective?" Asked Francine.

"Five years or so." She fumbled with her tail. The other two mammals knew that this was as far as she was comfortable on speaking on the matter

"Say, Danielle", asked Judy, "Why has Clawson such a bone to pick with me?"

"Oh." Danielle let go of her tail and looked at Judy. "He grew on Happytown and sort of believe that 'trying to fix the way things are will simply break it more for the ones that most suffer from it'." She sighed, "Look Judy, he's a good mammal, you know? Happytown has been hit pretty hard by this whole protest thing back home."

"I've attended… 10 occurrences there, just last week." Interrupted Francine. "A few business got tagged, stones were thrown into windows… things are bad there and, as it's the poorer part of Zootopia, no one cares if there are only two patrols around at night." Francine got up and stretched her back. "You two should get back to work and I will sit inside my car, these stairs are going to break my back," she waved her trunk, "Thanks for the coffee Danielle, we should get a beer back in town."

Danielle smiled and got up. "Want to frighten a young buck?", asked her to Judy.

"Me? I'm such a lovely person, I couldn't scare even a mouse!", spoke Judy, playfully.

"Yeah, right." Danielle opened the door, "You knocked out Sergeant Longhorn in the academy, ain't that right?'

"Just a bit." She entered the police station. "Have fun with the buck Howell."

"Oh, I'm planning to." Danielle walked straight to the buck and gave a light tap on his shoulder. "How about we have a talk in private, Mr Warren?"

The buck nodded. They walked side by side into the corridor, but before entering the room he hold held her shirt.

"You guys have a witness protection program, right?"

Danielle blinked her eyes, "This is sudden." She thought. "We have first to record our interview Mr Warren, please get in."


	11. Personal Judas

"Please state your name, age and profession." Asked Clawson.

"My name is Bob Warren, I'm 19 years old and a truck driver."

"Mr Warren, what were you delivering at the port so late at night some six nights ago?", proceeded Clawson.

"Night Howlers.", answered the buck in a very grave tone.

Clawson looked at Danielle, his expression said "What the hell?"

"Mr Warren, are you aware that Night Howlers have been forbidden 3 years ago?', inquired Danielle.

"Yes. My family grows them inside a greenhouse in our banana fields. We ship a bag of them every three months to Zootopia."

"What do you want?" Clawson leaned on this knees. "Why are you telling us all this?"

"I want witness protection and to get out of town." He scratched his neck, looking around the small room, a worried expression in his face. "Look. There are these guys. They call themselves Hunters Covenant. At first they were just scaring preds out of town and hey, they were just some families, why would it matter?" He glanced at both predators and lifted his hands defensively. "I'm not saying that their lives did not matter or anything. I have nothing to do with John's death."

"We are listening, go on." Said Clawson.

"Everyone wants to join them, so when they approached me I said 'sure!'."

"When was that?' Interrupted Clawson.

"Oh… six months or so ago. It was spring." He played with his fingers. "So at first I started delivering stuff. A box here and there, sometimes a message for 'ears only' and so on. That's when I started to hear that the Bevytons weren't leaving." He looked at the door and then back at Clawson. "Is it safe in here?"

"There are more law enforcement here than in the whole south, why are you so scared?" Asked Danielle.

"If your information really helps the case you don't have to worry about anything, Mr Warren." Said Clawson in a soothing tone.

"They are crazy Detective." said the buck to Howell. "Most of the boxes seemed to be fruit, grain, clothes, regular stuff. Some… were old. Last week they moved in town a box of ammunition. I never saw so many bullets in my life, it was stuff from the movies."

"Do you know who you delivered the boxes to?" probed Clawson.

"Oh, some I do. The weirder stuff I left on dirty roads, middle of nowheres. The Covenant really helps the community on events and things of the sorts though, some of the food we delivered in shelters and schools in other towns." Bob Warren smiled. "This was the good part, helping our folk out. It was like the boy scouts but super secret."

"You were saying something about the Bevytons not leaving?"

"Yeah. So I took a message here and there. Sometimes to other Initiates, some times to other Brothers. They first tried to sabotage John's diving gear, but he only used a fishing spear. A few days and he went upriver and bought a new one. So we tried to scare his wife, but she actually beat up a pair of Brothers who were supposed to ruffle her feathers a bit. That otter is a tough biscuit. So, one night, they rounded us up, the Initiates, and asked for a volunteer to assist a brother in a 'crucial mission to clean Beavertown once and for all'." He looked down at Clawson's feet. "That sounded bad, but my brother said he was up to it."

"Your brother in the Covenant?"

"No. My brother, son of the same mother and father, George. He has been an Initiate for a year or so." He paused and looked around once again. "Then… the Bevytons were gone." He looked up at Clawsons eyes. "I don't want to take part in this anymore… And now I can't go back… I outed a member… hell, he is my brother… You guys must bring me to Zootopia with you."

"I'll talk to your Chief and see what we can do Bob, but you are giving us good info." Clawson stood and opened the door. "Come, let's go back. We will sort everything out, ok?"

"Ok." The buck walked out of the small room, his head hanging low.

Danielle followed them back to the front of the police station, she went straight to Detective Hopps. "Hopps, we got a new lead. See if some of the fingerprints you found match one called George Warren. He's that bucks brother, if you need any more info you can ask him."

The young buck took a seat close to the window, next to the wolves. He glanced at the moonlight that entered through the window, a hint of a smile in his face.

"Well, that will help a lot if you are right Howell." Said Detective Hopps.

A thunder.

The smell of blood.

Not a single soul made any noise. All officers had pulled their pellet pistols and stood away from the windows. The bucks blood created a dark red pool on the floor, his body, motionless, his head stood a meter away from it, a faint smile petrified in his lips. The pale moonlight reflected on the pool.

A shout from the outside broke the silence.

"We are being surrounded!" sounded loudly the voice of Francine. Three faint sounds from her pellet pistol were heard followed by three hits. The hard and heavy thumps from her running followed, as she moved to the side of the small police station. Something heavy rolled over clay tiles and fell to the ground.

A new voice sounded, loud:

"You have no place to run and nowhere to hide. All preys can walk out of there and get out of town. You will leave your guns and never come back here." said the amplified voice behind the heavy wooden doors.

The Sheriff stood up, he was fuming. He went close to a window and shouted. "RAYMOND? IS THAT YOU? YOU KILLED YOUR GOD DAMN NEPHEW YOU CRAZY SONOVAGUN?!"

The mammals in the room looked at each other in confusion.

"He betrayed his vows Wayne. We did what we had to do. Now come out with your hands behind your head. You only did your duty so far, we have no bone to pick with you." said Raymond through his megaphone.

"YOU KOOK! YOU BLED YOUR FAMILY! SCREW YOU AND YOUR BUNCH OF FANATICS!" The Sheriff punched the wall in front of him. "I'll kill this bloody bastard."

He went under his desk and pulled a metal trunk to the center of the room. "I'll not let those freaks take any other life." He opened the box, an assortment of crowd control gear was inside it, he pulled an automatic pellet shooter and started loading it with crimson pellets.

Detective Hopps moved toward the Sheriff and shot a single pellet on the ram in the cage, which quickly fell asleep, confused. "Sheriff, what's the safe distance to use these?" Said Hopps, pointing inside the trunk.

"3 meters, something like that. It will not stop them." He attached the canister of pressurized air to the rifle. "You want to escape, you surrender. Either they or I will fall here, they won't take any more innocent lives in my watch."

"Oh Sheriff", said Hopps pulling a bit of his wool, "We will need but a moment."


	12. Gunfight at the BT City Hall

A few minutes passed.

"We are coming out, don't shoot." Shouted the Sheriff from inside.

The lights of the police station were turned off. The door opened and the four sheeps and six rabbits on the outside pointed their rifles to the door. Out came the Sheriff, holding his automatic pellet shooter.

"Don't shoot god damnit, we are surrendering." He threw his shooter to the ground and lifted his paws, climbing down the stairs. His angry eyes were aimed at the buck with a megaphone hanging on his belt. "You will pay for this Raymond, mark my words."

"You should be more thankful Wayne, I'm saving your life."

Out of the door a pistol was thrown. It bounced down the steps until it met the streets. "I'm coming out, don't shoot."

A small doe came out of the police station. She dressed blue jeans and a small white and orange shirt. Her badge hanged from her belt, shining golden against the white light of the moon. She held her hands behind her large droopy ears. The assailants aimed down their rifles as she slowly climbed down the stairs, her face holding a grave expression.

Two metal pieces clinked behind her. When they hit the floor, she smiled. Her hands moved fast behind her head, each holding a grenade, her eyes closed. They barely left her hands when they exploded.

Two white flashes filled the night along with two loud explosions. She threw herself to the ground, screaming. The glass of a window was broke. The rifles roared one after the other, aimlessly. Pellet pistols sang from all directions.

Officers bursted from the small police station as sheeps and rabbits screamed from either the pain of the red pellets or the blinding light that had pierced their eyes. Some attended Detective Hopps, her hands were severely burnt, others took to arrest the assailants that rolled on the ground in pain.

A local medic attended Judy that night. After a large dose of analgesics and some cleaning of her wounds, she had her hands dressed, this under strict supervision of two other officers.

* * *

The sun rose slowly and lazily. They both watched as the prisoners climbed in the transport sent from Zootopia. She could smell the vinegar in their fur. She smiled.

"This is wrong." Spoke Peter, he was seated at the hood of their car.

"Why do you say that? We managed to get out of this alive and well." She opened her new pack, a local pub opened during the night to house them and she managed to buy one. "Let's move."

She went around the car and got in the passenger seat. Danielle folded her old newspaper and threw it in the glove compartment. Peter got in the driver seat and adjusted the mirror.

"What will happen to this town? What will happen to Sheriff Wayne?" Peter leaned on the steering wheel. "I need to sleep."

"We all have to, princess. I added a recommendation that more officers should be stationed here, in our report." She looked at her cigarette, but put it back in the pack. "And if I were you, I would be more worried with the shipments of Night Howlers that went into Zootopia without notice."

"At least we can do something…" Peter glanced outside the car and shoved his head through the window. "Hey Hopps! How are you feeling?" He shouted.

"Better!" Detective Hopps shouted back. Both her hands were bandaged tightly. "See you two at the precinct!"

The doe hopped in the back of the ambulance and Officer Bungalow closed the door behind her. He waved at them and got into the driver's seat.

"No more bone to pick with her?" Asked Danielle.

"I'm not a complete prick Danielle." He turned on the car and started to drive out of the small town. "She stuck her neck out for us, I got nothing more to say."

Peter drove road on. The forest started to give place to lush fields of wheat and soon enough a carrot patch would turn up here and there. His expression was a mix of sober and grave, his hands held tightly to the steering wheel.

"You are awfully quiet." Spoke Danielle.

"You are awfully talky." Spoke Peter.

"What is eating you up? You should've relaxed by now."

"What will happen when this get to the press?" He tensed even more, his back stood away from the seat. "We may have made things worse… no one needs more divide."

"The circus will go on Peter, we will have at least a year more of this mess." She looked at the fields that passed by, the sweet smell of grain filled the air. "And then they will all forget. I mean, not the people at Beavertown, but Zootopia has more to worry about."

He leaned back on his seat, his expression even more grave.

"Speed up." Said Danielle, in a serious tone.

"What? Why?" Peter looked at the rearview mirror, confused. "Are you crazy Danielle?"

"Just do what I'm telling you."

Peter sighed. "Screw it." He floored the accelerator and started to change gears. 100... 120... 150... 180… 200km/h. The engine screamed and his whiskers moved as a hint of a smile emerged at the edge of his mouth.

"You tell anyone this, I'll kick your ass." She rolled the window down and a huge gust of wind stormed inside the car. Danielle stuck her head outside and opened her mouth wide. her cheeks inflated and she let her long tongue flail at the side of her head.

Peter stared at her in disbelief and amusement. A few seconds passed before she closed her mouth and slid the window up, keeping the wind outside. She quietly dried the side of her mouth with a handkerchief and brushed her fur with her paws. Peter snickered.

"Not. A. Word." She opened the glove compartment and picked her old newspaper. Danielle crossed her legs and started to quietly read it.

Peter smiled and focused back on the road.


	13. Epilogue

Bungalow held the precinct door open for her.

"Please deliver our report to Bogo. I'll drop some things and head home." Spoke Judy heading to the precincts locker room.

"Don't you need some help Boss? Your fingers…" The big tiger catched up with her in two steps.

"My fingers are fine Bungalow. It's just a flesh wound, see?" She flexed her fingers under all the bandage. "Now go, deliver that report and go to your home."

"Yes sir." He saluted her and headed upstairs.

Her fingers ached and itched, she would have to clean and change the bandages when she got home. She walked inside the empty locker room and stopped in front of her own locker. She stared at the big padlock that hanged from the small locker door.

"Crap baskets…"

She tried to reach her keys inside her front pocket but her bandaged hands would not fit. She managed to slip in a single finger and hook her keychain with its tip. She fumbled with her keys when suddenly a familiar paw reached hers and helped the key inside the lock.

Nick slid his left arm around her waist, while laying his head over hers. He pulled her right paw towards her chest and whispered "Dumb bunny…" holding her tight.

She leaned against his chest, allowing the fur of his chin to cover her eyes. She took a deep breath against his neck, taking in his familiar smell.

Judy gently bit his neck under his thick fur and felt as his muscles tensed to form a smile.

Fim.


	14. Thank yous and all that good stuff

First of all, thank you for reading.

This is the first thing this long I've ever written in my life that wasn't my graduation thesis and by far the most I've ever written in english.

On that matter, something very important: a good samaritan nicknamed gradius02 is helping me out editing the chapters. At the time of this writing the chapters 1 to 3 have been completely revised, corrected and cleaned up of whatever dumb mistakes I had made, as english is not my first language.

A second thing is: I intend on writing a follow up to this once inspiration hits me again, would you want to read it? I would really appreciate any kind of feedback you guys could give me on this.

All in all, I had a lot of fun writing this, hope you guys and girls did too! See you all!


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